


Up All Night

by verity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Genderswap, Ghosts, Humor, Hypothermia, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 07:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"See if I ever cuddle you if you get ghost hypothermia," Stiles said.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or, the one where they both get ghost hypothermia and shenanigans ensue. cisf!Derek/cisf!Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up All Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darthjamtart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthjamtart/gifts), [Clio (clio_jlh)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clio_jlh/gifts), [sophia_sol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophia_sol/gifts).



> Set during Stiles's senior year of high school.
> 
> For my ladies. <3

A few days before Halloween, Stiles went out to the Hale house to spend the night. She told her dad the truth, mostly because she thought he'd find it funny.

"We think it's haunted," she said, plunking the Geiger counter next to the infrared thermometer in her backpack.

"You think." Her dad poured himself a cup of half-caf; he was on night shift, but that was no reason to overdo it, as Stiles had already told him once tonight. "You _think_."

"No, like _actually_ haunted, like ghouls or a poltergeist or something, not, you know, Darcy's dead family. Or Peter."

"Peter's alive, he can't haunt people," her dad said. Yeah, she'd given him the overview, but there were some parts of the last two years Stiles had glossed over. Just in the interest of sanity.

"Never stopped him before," Stiles said. "I've finally stopped having the nightmares where he hops out of my closet in the middle night and starts singing 'Hello, Little Girl' from _Into the Woods_ , though."

"Your mom loved that musical." Her dad came over and squeezed her shoulder. "Shoot me a text before you go to bed so I know you're still alive?"

"I'm _hunting ghosts_. There's no going to bed."

"One o'clock, then," he said. "Or I'll come check up on you."

Stiles put down the plastic container of mountain ash she was separating into snack-size plastic baggies and looked up at him. "You can't just come over, Dad. It might be dangerous."

"Making my point for me, kid."

"Don't touch that pot of regular, it's for me," Stiles said, which wasn't exactly changing the subject.

At one the alarm on her phone went off, and she rolled off the mattress, flailing, and hit her hip on the Geiger counter. It took a few moments of groping, but Stiles found her pants and wrestled the phone out of her back pocket. _Not dead,_ she typed with shaking fingers, then moved her elbow a little so all of her weight wasn't on the Geiger counter. _Can you get some skim milk? and yogurt? we're out. ty :D_

"Are you writing a novel down there?" Darcy made enough noise sliding toward the edge of the mattress that Stiles didn't jump when Darcy's hand brushed against her back.

"I don't think I have ghost hypothermia anymore." Stiles flexed her fingers. "But I'm still really fucking cold. Also, you were supposed to be keeping an eye on the EMF meter."

"The numbers are the same," Darcy said. "And your feet still feel like ice."

"I'm wearing socks," Stiles said, climbing back onto the mattress. She really hoped she didn't have to pee before dawn; she'd been able to secure the perimeter of Darcy's room with mountain ash before she collapsed under Darcy and the giant mound of comforters on Darcy's bed, but she didn't want to try it again if she didn't have to. Especially now that she'd pissed off the ghost big time. "Hey, if you have to pee, can you hold it until sunrise?"

Darcy wrapped her arms around Stiles again, pulling Stiles close and tucking her nose against the back of Stiles's neck. The whole cuddling for warmth thing was pretty awkward. "I'm not the one who drank a giant thermos of coffee."

"Don't remind me," Stiles said. "Maybe I'll be too afraid to pee. I think it usually works the other way, but it could happen. Which reminds me. Remember how we said there was no way Peter could be haunting your house? Actually, I said that, and Lydia objected, but I was pretty sure she was wrong, because—"

"It's the ghost of his alpha," Darcy said flatly. "The glowing eyes tipped me off."

"Wait, that's a thing? That's a thing and you _never told me_?" Stiles twisted around so she could look at Darcy, which was unfortunate because then their boobs were weirdly sharing the same space and also she couldn't actually see Darcy's face at all because it was dark.

Darcy grabbed Stiles by the shoulder and pulled her back into little spoon position. "It's the best explanation I have."

"That is so very sad," Stiles said. "And I'm pretty sure I have to pee now."

"No, you don't."

"That's not going to work."

"Never underestimate the power of positive thinking," Darcy said, and then she licked a slow path up the side of Stiles's neck, and—

"That makes it _worse_ ," Stiles said, pressing her thighs closer together. At least it was dark and Darcy couldn't see her blush. "That is not a good solution! I am Luke and you are the tauntaun! This is strictly business here!"

Darcy pulled back a little. "It's supposed to help. The—wolf saliva."

"See if I ever cuddle you if you get ghost hypothermia," Stiles said.

—

And then there was the time that Darcy got ghost hypothermia.

"You're not very warm," she said from under the pile of six comforters and one electric blanket and two duvets and three hot water bottles. And Stiles. 

"Yeah, well, I'm not a werewolf, sorry for not being a supernatural _radiator_. Next time, can we keep the pack inside the circle?"

"I couldn't risk the alpha possessing one of them." Darcy's teeth chattered. Stiles hadn't planned for _her_ vulnerability to the ghost's freezing powers, but then again, she also hadn't expected Darcy would have to eat the ghost of Peter's alpha form. Literally. It was like the Powerpuff Girls episode with the broccoli, which had put Scott off vegetables for a week after it aired. Scott loved the Powerpuff Girls. 

And Stiles would do exactly what she was doing right now for Scott, if he'd had to eat a ghost and gotten ghost hypothermia. Sure.

"You realize that you're talking aloud, right?" Darcy said. 

"Uh," Stiles said. 

"It's cold." Darcy tucked her head under Stiles's chin, which put her freezing nose right in Stiles's cleavage. And the rest of her face. "I'm _cold_."

This—this was not good. Stiles pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time: 11.30pm. There was no way around it, she was going to have to break the circle of mountain ash around the house and call in the rest of the pack. Yeah, she'd brought blankets and hot water bottles and an electric kettle and the camping toilet that Scott's mom still had and also coffee and Gatorade and flares (just in case), but that was not enough to handle an actual werewolf medical emergency. And left to her own devices, Darcy came up with solutions like cutting off her own arm, so even if she weren't totally out of it—yeah. Not good.

When Stiles pulled her phone closer to text Dr. Deaton, Darcy grabbed her wrist. "Don't. I'm—okay. Don't want them. It's just—like being drunk, maybe, I don't know."

"Werewolves can't get drunk."

" _I don't know_." Darcy carefully enunciated each word, which might have helped if she weren't talking directly into Stiles's chest.

"Awesome," Stiles said. "Well, if you feel puke or glowy eyes coming on, let me know. I think I've got a bucket somewhere around here, and I'm getting pretty good at running for my life. I should join track."

"I saw a movie about that once," Darcy said. "Or maybe it was about soccer. I think it had Victoria Beckham. My cousin liked the Spice Girls. They were pretty. Except for Baby, I didn't like her." Her arm had been draped under Stiles's arm and over her back, almost casually, but her fingers started creeping under the strap of Stiles's bra and—this was _really_ not good.

"Whoa, nelly," Stiles said, elbowing Darcy's arm down. "You are, like, not capable of consent, I know how this drunk thing works. Do you have some kind of hypothermia kink? Are you just into one or both parties being incredibly cold? Did you buy one of those freaky sparkly dildos that you can put in the freezer off the internet? Because that would be pretty weird because you supposedly hate _Twilight_ and also I didn't say any of that and I don't know anything about _Twilight_ either and—"

"You can put any silicone dildo in the freezer," Darcy said.

"Oh my god," Stiles said. "This is going to be a long night."

Stiles gave up and called for reinforcements by 12.15.

—

The next time Darcy and Stiles ended up trapped in Darcy's room behind a circle of mountain ash, no ghosts were involved. It was just Peter being himself on the full moon and claiming to be possessed. This time, Stiles had managed two circles, one inside the house and one inside Darcy's room, so Peter couldn't get out and cause havoc, but he couldn't get in and harm them, either. That left him free reign of the house, but as long as Peter didn't burn it down or break the dishwasher again, Stiles didn't really care.

"I still don't see why I have to be in here with you." Darcy folded her arms. She was leaning against the wall at the head of the mattress; Stiles was sitting at the foot, undoing the laces on her chucks. 

Stiles rolled her eyes. "You and Peter, together, full moon, we've gone over this. Not a solid plan."

"We're stuck in here until sunrise. _Again_." Darcy said, like Stiles had somehow failed to notice this very salient fact. 

"You should be glad I've started carrying mountain ash and energy bars in my backpack, I'm just saying. And, look, I even included your bathroom in the circle this time. How awesome am I? That's right, totally awesome." Her homework was in her bag, too; Stiles only had two months left until graduation and senioritis was becoming a serious issue, but hey, she could totally get ahead on homework for AP US History. If she didn't get distracted by checking Facebook on her phone.

Darcy poked Stiles in the shoulder with her toe. "I don't like being stuck inside on full moon nights. Makes me restless."

"We're reading _The Awakening_ in English right now." Stiles tossed her copy at Darcy. "That'll put you to sleep. Promise."

Somehow, though, not even the angst and eventual emo drowning were enough to dampen Darcy's agitation. She kept tapping her fingers against her thigh, which made it hard to concentrate - less because of the arhythmic staccato than because Stiles kept thinking about Darcy's thighs, and Darcy generally, and how somehow she had managed to almost-naked cuddle with the hottest person she knew aside from Lydia with nothing to show for it aside from gross werewolf licking. Because Stiles was a gentleman. Gentlewoman? Whatever. "Can you stop that?" she asked, because this practice DBQ on growth of New York during the Early Colonial Period wasn't going to write itself.

"Sorry," Darcy said. She looked away, toward the ceiling. It was new, from when they'd rebuilt the house the previous year; the only interesting thing up there was the constellations you got with that popcorn stuff.

"Do you need to do sit-ups? Jog in place or something?"

"No." Darcy closed her eyes, bit her lip. She was vibrating a little with repressed energy: Stiles could actually feel it traveling down the mattress. Intellectually, Stiles knew Darcy had been a werewolf her entire life and was perfectly capable of controlling herself by now, but she couldn't help be a little freaked out by this. Something had to give.

"So," Stiles said, her mouth a little ahead of her brain, "I have an idea. It's probably a really terrible idea, but it can't be worse than locking you up during the full moon, right?"

"What," Darcy said, like it wasn't a question, and she was leaning forward a little, eyes focused on Stiles now, like she already knew what Stiles was going to say, do.

"I think we should make out?" Stiles said. "Maybe that would help?"

"Fine—" and, oh geez, Darcy was already all up in her space, this must be bad—

Stiles leaned forward and then they were _kissing_ , real kissing, not like the time where she and Scott had tried to kiss that one time when they were twelve and been super grossed out after, no, this was the real deal, with Darcy's hands on Stiles's shoulders and one of Stiles's hands braced on Darcy's thigh while the other gripped her hip. Darcy seemed kind of shy, her mouth pressed close against Stiles's, lips parting a little when Stiles brushed them hesitantly with the tip of her tongue. Stiles hadn't expected Darcy to be like this, trembling with want but still uncertain, stiff and nervous under Stiles's touch. It was weirdly endearing. A lot of this was weird.

And hot.

"We could do more than make out?" Stiles said, pulling back for a moment. "If you want to."

"If you want to," Darcy said. She bit her lip. "I want to. Yeah."

Everything was a blur after that: Stiles could pick out individual details later, if pressed, but it mostly boiled down to: happy! naked! exciting! flashing werewolf eyes! Except she didn't really want to run right now, because Darcy was doing stuff with her tongue that Stiles had only read about on the internet, and it felt pretty great, and Stiles was looking forward to doing that to her, too, lat—

"Holy _shit_ ," Stiles said fervently.

—definitely _later_.

—

"Just think, we could totally have been naked all those times we had ghost hypothermia," Stiles said, dreamily. "Both those times. You know what I mean."

"Shut up," Darcy said, but she was smiling.


End file.
